He's Captured My Heart (Captured Series Book 1) (4 page)

Karl is the head chef. Excellent at his job, he has given our restaurant an absolutely brilliant reputation. In the year he has worked for the hotel, restaurant turnover is up, and profits have more than doubled. Dad started him because he is still young enough, that he hasn’t lost of any of his drive and ambition. It’s his drive that has turned the restaurant around. It’s not just hotel guests dining in anymore—we are seeing more locals use the restaurant.

When I enter the changing room, I pause. I can’t make up my mind whether it’s a swim or a run I want. When I see some mums with kids screaming and shouting, all ready for the pool, that makes up my
mind. A run it is. That way I can stick my earphones in and not hear a thing. Kids and pools are always noisy. I make my way over to the treadmill, noticing that the gym is actually rather quiet. There are only two others here; Stephen, the leisure centre manager, is speaking with a guest. She is obviously getting an introduction to the gym, as he’s telling her how each piece of equipment works. He sees me and waves; I wave back and mouth,
Speak to you later
.

Earphones in, iPod on, I hit the switch. The way I feel, I could run all day. While the miles slip by under my feet, my mind drifts. Thoughts of Ethan flood my mind. Maybe I’ll phone him tonight just to make sure he’s all right. I’ll also let Stephen know that Ethan’s promised to call. I try to think of places that I could take Mr. Mathews to see. I should have asked Dad what the man might be interested in—and what he was thinking, sticking me with the grumpy American. Ethan should have got this job. I laugh at the thought.

There’s a tap on my shoulder. I take one end of my earphones out and turn round. It’s Stephen, so I start to slow down.

“What’s so funny, Libby? I heard you laughing from the other side of the gym,” Stephen says. The machine comes to a stop, and all I can do is stare at Stephen. Always—even when he’s working out—he looks immaculate, with his blond hair swept back behind his ears. His soft baby blues always seem to smile at me. I’ve known Stephen since primary
school; that’s how long he and Ethan have been best friends.

I take a long drink of water when the machine finally stops and step off to face him.

“Dad has a grumpy American here on business, and I have to take him sight-seeing. I was just thinking he should have given that job to Ethan to get him out and about,” I say, panting.

“I like your thinking. So how is he anyway? Did he have a good holiday?”

“He seems good. We had a long talk yesterday about the house and things,” I say. “He was a bit upset, but I think I finally got through to him. He says he’s going to call you. And he will be here on Sunday for the charity do, so you can see how he is for yourself.”

“It will be great to see him. I miss hanging out with him, and I am missing Lucy as well. She must be getting big now?”

“She is, and she’s the spitting image of Lindsay, which I know must make it harder on him,” I reply.

“Hello? Excuse me?”

Stephen and I both turn towards the gym door to see a man standing there. Stephen gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll catch you later, Libby,” he says as he walks towards the man. He looks vaguely familiar. He must be a member. Stephen talks to him for a moment and then points over at me. The man starts walking towards me.

Please don’t let this be another unhappy guest. I can’t cope with two in one day
. Although I’d stand a better chance, maybe, at charming this one. He’s nearer my age and
very
pleasant on the eyes.

“Miss Stewart, I believe?” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Yes.” I shake the man’s hand. Suddenly I’m feeling nervous. There’s something about his touch that is electrifying, that sends shivers all down my spine. I try to pull my hand from his grip, but it won’t move, or rather, he won’t let it go.

“I am your ‘grumpy American,’ Alexander Mathews,” he says in a rather conservative tone.

Good god. I want the ground to open and swallow me whole. Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut? He still has a very firm grip of my hand as he stares at me. God, why is he still holding it? And why the hell do I recognise him? He really looks so familiar that I wonder if I’ve met him before. Maybe if I saw him with my father, I would remember.

I can’t seem to take my eyes off the fascinating man standing in front of me. I keep telling myself it’s rude to stare, but I can’t help it.

“Miss Stewart, are you okay? You seem a bit distracted,” he asks.

He’s noticed. Distracted—good choice of word. Can I make him think that it’s not him that’s distracting me? Such soft brown eyes…still looking at me. Does he know what I’m thinking?
I feel drawn to him, as if
something is pulling me in. My breathing is all over the place, I feel a bit light-headed, and my legs are shaky—and not just because of the running.

“Just a bit dizzy. Must be from running,” I mutter.
Pull yourself together, girl
.

He lets go of my hand and places his very softly on my shoulder. With his other hand, he guides the bottle of water I’m holding up to my mouth. His eyes remain fixed on mine. His hand is warm and soft.

“Drink.” It sounds more like an order than a request.

As I take a long drink of water, I close my eyes, hoping and praying I can have a bit more composure when I open them; I really don’t want to fall at this man’s feet. Not yet, anyway. When I open my eyes, he’s smiling at me.

The man in front of me definitely doesn’t look like the grumpy American I had pictured in my head. That vision has long gone. Instead I see a man who is young, maybe a few years older than I am, handsome, and a bit rough round the edges.
Don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy look this good in a suit
. Although I think his body would look so much better without it on. I can’t believe I am standing in front of a tall, lean, handsome stranger and already imagining him naked. I wonder if the body inside the suit matches the image running through my mind.

I shake myself.
You are stronger than this. Get a grip, girl. He’s only a man. But such a fine specimen of a man
.

“Mr. Mathews. I’m fine, thank you,” I try to say as casually as I can.

“Miss Stewart, I came looking for you to thank you and apologise.”

“Please. Call me Libby. I think it’s I who should apologise, after what you overheard,” I say. “And why would you want to thank me?” I am embarrassed. My face must be bright red, but at least I can blame that on the running too.

He just laughs. So glad I amuse him. Perhaps he knows it’s not the running that’s got me all flustered. I imagine this is the effect he has on women all the time.

“Well, I’ve been told that you’ve given me your own room. After thinking it over, I would much rather stay in one of the other rooms. I really don’t want to put you out. And it
is
only for one night. I’m sure I can manage without a loch view until tomorrow.”

“It’s not a big deal. As I assured Michael, everything will be sorted out first thing tomorrow,” I say with a smile.

“No, please keep your room. I insist. I think I’ve caused you enough trouble today.”

“Okay. I’ll have reception call you in the morning as soon as the rooms are ready. It should be about breakfast time,” I reply.

“You’re not what I expected, Libby.”

What did he expect? Obviously someone much older and maybe not even female from the looks he’s
been giving me. But then he’s not what I was expecting either. “Ah, you were thinking—”

“Yes, you are way too young. And…your father said that the hotel manager was a man.” He answers the question that was running through my head and fires a question back at me. God, he’s a mind reader.

He’s referring to Luke, with whom I’ve worked since uni learning the trade. He taught me well, and he made it clear to my dad when he was leaving that I was more than ready to fill his shoes.

“Luke left about a month ago to accept a position in London,” I answer.

“I see,” he says with a sigh. “So, Libby, I guess I’ve been left in your care. You’re spending time with me over the next few weeks?” He looks smug at the thought of that. Amusement. That’s what I see in his eyes.

“Weeks?” I know my father has the rooms booked out for three weeks, but I hadn’t realised I was expected to do some, let’s say, babysitting for the whole duration of his stay. How can I possibly spend weeks with a man who so completely befuddled me in such a short space of time?

“Yes, Libby. I’ll be staying here for two or three weeks. Didn’t your father tell you?”

“Yes, but…” I snap. Good god. I must sound like a right bitch.

“I do have various meetings to attend during my stay; it is, after all, a business trip. But I think it could
also become an extremely pleasurable trip, given the opportunity to spend some time getting to know Phil’s beautiful daughter.”

He’s openly flirting, trying and obviously succeeding in making me blush. I feel like I could fall at any moment. I am standing in front of him, visibly shaking, dripping sweat in my gym gear, my soaking-wet hair clotted to my head. Could this get any more awkward? It probably could. And here I had thought when I first saw him that I could charm him. Instead it’s him using his charm on me—and its working. I wonder what it would feel like to run my hands through his sexy, brown hair whilst in a passionate embrace.

“Could we meet up later to go over your calendar? I would also love to get a tour of the hotel and grounds. I understand that you must be busy, but there are a lot of things I’d like to do while I’m here. I’ve never been to Scotland before.”

“I am actually meeting a friend for lunch today, but I’m free tomorrow from noon on, if that’s any good,” I say. “I had already cleared my agenda since that’s when I was expecting you.”

He’s no longer smiling. There’s no glint in his eyes. What does he want me to do, change my plans just for him and just because he arrived a day early? No can do. It doesn’t matter how good-looking he is; I won’t do it. But if he had half a mind to try, I’m sure I could be persuaded.

“Very well, Miss Stewart. Good day to you.” He turns on his heel and walks away.

“Why are you here a day early?” I call after him. He doesn’t answer.

God, what a morning so far. I’m really not sure what to make of the handsome American I am now going to be stuck with for a few weeks. I am definitely attracted to him, so I am going to have to figure out a way to remain professional. This could be a big problem. I am suddenly curious about what business he’s in and what he’s doing with my father. He must be a new client.

I can’t stand here all day dreaming. Soon I’ll be meeting Kirsty for lunch, so I need to head back to my room for a quick shower and change. Stephen is busy with another guest, so I just give him a wave and mouth,
See you later
.

“No you don’t, Libby. Wait up!” Stephen calls after me.

“What is it? Kirsty’s coming over soon. I really need to get ready.”

“So, you and Alex…how do you know each other?”

“We don’t. That’s the first time we’ve met. Dad’s doing some business with him, I believe. Turns out
he’s
the grumpy American I was talking about.”

“From the way you were both acting, I presumed you knew each other. Surely you must recognise him?”

“Yes, I think so, but I’m not sure where from. I must have met him through Dad. He’s a businessman after all.”

“Libby, he is
the
businessman of the moment in America. He’s always in the papers and tabloid news with a different beauty on his arm every week. I’m not really sure what line of business he’s in. I’ve not paid much attention to the articles, just the stunning women in the pictures. Libby, promise me you’ll be careful with him. He has a bit of a reputation with women. You’re a beautiful woman, just his type, and I don’t want to see him take advantage of you,” Stephen says with a concerned voice.

“Don’t worry about me. You know I’m more than capable of taking care of myself,” I say. “Now I really need to get a wriggle on. Wait just a minute…beautiful, you say? I can’t make up my mind whether you want a date with the boss or a pay rise,” I say, laughing as I start out of the gym. We both already know the answer to that question.

“I’d take a pay cut for a date with you any day of the week,” he says, trying to make it sound like a joke, but I know he means it.

I call Sally and ask her if anyone is free to give me a hand for ten minutes or so moving my things. Poor
Sally. Now she doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going. I send Kirsty a quick text:

Libby: What time did we say for lunch? L X

Kirsty: 1 C U soon X

Good. It’s just noon, so I’ve got plenty of time to get ready. As I stand in the shower rinsing my hair, my mind wanders to my encounter with the American and then to Stephen’s warning—because that’s what it was, a warning. Stephen is sweet, but he clearly still thinks of me as a little girl unable to handle myself. But we’re all the same age—Stephen, Ethan, and me.